


i'm not yours (but i'd like to be)

by petitebaguette (fallingmin)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Comfort, Hate to Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Slow Burn, john laurens is an actual blessing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingmin/pseuds/petitebaguette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i.<br/>“call me son one more time!” the words rip their way out of alexander’s throat, ugly and biting. </p><p>alexander takes gasping breaths of air, chest heaving. he slumps against the wall, watching washington warily. the older man makes no other move to approach. </p><p>“alexander…” washington’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach out. “my boy-”</p><p>“i’m not yours,” alexander interrupts, voice hoarse. “don't call me yours.”</p><p>and then he's gone, the whirlwind of a boy he is, the door slamming shut behind him.<br/>----<br/>in which hamilton realizes maybe this isn't so bad</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not yours (but i'd like to be)

**Author's Note:**

> this is so historically inaccurate--

i.  
“call me son one more time!” the words rip their way out of alexander’s throat, ugly and biting.

alexander takes gasping breaths of air, chest heaving. he slumps against the wall, watching washington warily. the older man makes no other move to approach.

“alexander…” washington’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach out. “my boy-”  
  
“i’m not yours,” alexander interrupts, voice hoarse. “don't call me yours.”

and then he's gone, the whirlwind of a boy he is, the door slamming shut behind him.

 

  
ii.  
washington’s strides are long, his strong legs carrying him through the crowd of soldiers. the men all send him relaxed salutes and greetings. the day had been a day of victory, and this was the best his men had looked in months.

he ignores them.

he has something much more important waiting for him.

“where is he?” the words are out of washington’s mouth before he's even inside the medical tent. he pushes past the closed flaps.

“your excellency…” laurens. the young man looks haggard, but not mourning. good. that meant his b-alexander. that meant _alexander_ was fine.

“it's not serious, general.” alexander says from the cot he's lying on. his left leg, wrapped in tight bandages, is elevated by a sling that hangs from the ceiling.

“a broken leg is actually quite serious, alex.” laurens mutters, casting a disapproving glance at the injured boy. alexander rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, his wince almost too small to notice. almost.

“john.” laurens looks up at the sound of his name. “thank you for watching hamilton. leave us, now.”

laurens pauses. he ignores alexander’s hand gestures that are no doubt telling him to stay. he looks between alexander and washington, before nodding to himself.

“yes, sir. our little lion may not be the best company right now, though,” he says wryly before stepping out of the tent.

and then it's just the two of them.

“i hardly saw it fit to interrupt your day because of a small injury,” alexander mutters. washington feels the boy's eyes on him as he gathers a basin and washcloth.

“sir-” washington fixes him with a firm look.

“you are going to stay there and listen,” he begins, voice low and stern. “understood?”

a pause.

“understood, sir,” is the soft reply.

“good boy,” washingnton murmurs, settling down next to alexander’s side. he soaks the cloth in warm water, wringing out the excess. he grasps alexander’s chin with a gentle hand, turning his head to face him.

“i looked for you among the soldiers,” washington says quietly. “a man told me that alexander hamilton had been injured in battle and carried to the medical tents for immediate treatment.”

washington cleans the grime from alexander’s cheeks with short swipes of the cloth. his hands are steady.

“i didn't mean to.” his boy blurts out. he snaps his mouth shut, coloring under washington’s gaze.

“i know,” washington says simply. he lays the cloth down. alexander doesn't meet his eyes.

“i’m sorry,” his boy mutters. washington grips his hand in one of his own. his hand completely covers alexander’s.

“i know.”

 

  
iii.

he's home.

washington shifts in his seat on the porch and turns the page of his book.

mount vernon is as he remembers it. the house, weathered around the edges, is surrounded by neat gardens that stretch as far as the riverbanks. the overhang above the deck shields him from the hot sun but does nothing for the brightness outside. he squints when he looks up.

“your excellency, i was unaware of your presence.” it's laurens. all the way from alabama. washington straightens up, lying his book facedown next to him.

“john, my boy,” washington says genially, walking down the deck stairs. he rests a hand on the young man's shoulder. “it's good to see you safe. what brings you here?”

“i’m only here as an errand boy, sir. the precious...belongings you had left in the south have been delivered safely.” he turns sheepish. “i’m sorry, but i must be going soon.”

washington raises an eyebrow but waves as laurens leaves down the driveway. he ambles back to the gardens, boxes upon boxes undoubtedly waiting for him.

what he sees isn't what he expected.

george tilts his head back, shielding his eyes from the sun with a broad hand as he looks up.

“hello.” alexander grins cheekily. he sits, legs crossed, on top of the boxes. he looks older, eyes a little wearier and hair longer. his smile fades at washington’s silence.

“i-this was supposed to be amusing to you,” he says. his eyes drift to the ground. “i’m sorry. i can leave if you want.”

“no.” washington steps forward, closer to the boy. “i’d like it very much if you'd stay.”

he takes in the picture and chuckles. alexander hamilton sitting on top of one of the wooden chests that's been stacked high, in his own backyard.

“i might have underestimated the height when i asked john to help me up,” alexander admits, glancing down at washington with shy eyes. washington laughs, bright and loud.

“i’ll help you, my boy.”


End file.
